Parental Guidance' lacks direction

“Parental Guidance” offers a very cranky worldview, suggesting that the current generation of parents isn’t fit to raise a fern. A 5-year-old who never hears the word “no” becomes a one-person wrecking crew, ruining a kitchen, a symphony performance and the X Games in one 48-hour period.

Bette Midler and Billy Crystal come to the rescue, trying to salvage both their movie grandchildren and this harmlessly mediocre cross-generational comedy. They have varying degrees of success with both jobs.

The script offers no surprises — it’s the kind of movie where the writers get out of a comedic jam by hitting Crystal in the testicles with a baseball bat and putting Midler on a stripper pole.

The setup is old school versus new school, with Artie and Diane Decker (Crystal and Midler) forced by a last-minute crisis to parachute in and raise their over-programmed grandchildren for a few days. A stressed-out music prodigy older daughter, stuttering middle son and red-haired hellion kindergartener offer a variety of obvious conflicts.

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From the moment the Deckers arrive, everything is presented in stereotype-perpetuating extremes.

Grandpa wants to play kick the can. The kids think he should recycle it. The grandparents are aghast that a children’s baseball game has unlimited strikes and no score. One of the funnier running jokes: The kids’ dad started a company that has turned the entire house into a clone of Apple’s Siri software.

Perhaps anticipating an older audience, most of the lessons are one-sided, with the old-timers seemingly harming the children while actually saving them.

How much does this movie skew toward boomers? Russ Hodges figures prominently into the plot. If you’re going to sneak a pastrami sandwich into one movie this Christmas, make it “Parental Guidance.”

All of the above puts Crystal and Midler in a comfortable place, rattling off a greatest hits of their earlier cinematic successes. She gets to sing a couple of times. He talks about baseball, complains too much and makes fun of Twitter.

Director Andy Fickman opts against subtlety at every turn. A score filled with heavy strings and the occasional ringing of chimes telegraphs all emotional cues, practically willing the water out of your tear ducts. The grandparents are feisty, but the language and themes never challenge the PG rating.

The result is the rare film that can be watched by three or four generations at once, with no one feeling particularly alienated.